


Home

by CaptainKiran



Series: Winter Will Turn Into Spring [1]
Category: Sharpe (TV), Sharpe - All Media Types, Sharpe Series - Bernard Cornwell
Genre: 1813, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe- It's My Canon NOW Bernard Cornwell, F/M, Family, Feels, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Napoleonic Wars, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 02:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17613629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainKiran/pseuds/CaptainKiran
Summary: "When the sweep of wind along the grassBows down to destinyWhen the last bright star has fallenLord, who will comfort me?"Teresa Moreno is home at last.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ARW1860](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARW1860/gifts).



The burden of being away from her family weighed heavily on her- she counted the days in her head, at night when huddled by a dying campfire, her blanket wrapped tightly around her. She had missed them dearly, that longing to see them always in her heart, no matter where she was.

But she was nearly there.

She had made a steady pace, out of the valley and into the mountains, his last letter in her mind. Oh, how she wanted to fly across the road, to be that much quicker, she wanted the miles to shrink down to nothing, but patience was important. She did not want to injure her horse in her haste.

But her patience was at an end. There were only a few miles left. She had gone from a trot, before making a clicking noise and digging her heels into the stirrups, a canter now- and soon she was at a full gallop, racing across the incline, and her cheeks ached with how much she was smiling- she had not even realized she had been doing so at the thought of being home.

_Home._

She spoke encouraging words to her steed and he spurred her forward, the landscape racing by in a blur. The hair that had escaped her braid flew behind her, her breath leaving in clouds as she laughed to herself, excitement rushing through her. How long it had been since she had felt so alive, and the feeling only grew as she rounded the corner, and the familiar sight of the straw roof against the grey sky came to view.

Finally, _finally._ She was home.

Quickly she had sped down the graveled road, and just as quickly she had reined her horse in. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she could hear the familiar sound of Ramon’s voice carrying across the yard as she patted her horse’s neck. He was beckoning a distance away behind the house, and she slid off her saddle, boots hitting the ground as she turned to see a familiar figure round the corner and stop in his tracks.

“Teresa!”

Oh, how she had missed the sound of his voice saying her name.

“ _Richard_ ,” she breathed.

He wore his greatcoat, pulled up close to his neck, and on his hands he wore his fingerless gloves; beneath were his civilian clothes, and though the chilly autumn air blew, it did not faze him much. His face was lit with a smile, wide and laughing, and she found her feet had moved of their own accord, shouting his name, _Richard, Richard!_ , already racing across the grass, and he was too, and with a great collision the two were in each other’s arms, laughing and smiling and holding each other so tightly it would have hurt had they not been so occupied, and he lifted her off her feet and spun her around.  
  
His lips were on hers, devouring them in a desperate, passionate kiss, and her hands went through his hair, cupping his face, everywhere as she basked in his presence, his hand on the back of her neck, the other around her waist. They parted only briefly for air, clouds misting between them as they kissed again and again, smiling against each others lips as they breathlessly laughed. His hands were so warm, so calloused as he brought them to her cheeks, thumb caressing her softly, and he only pulled away briefly to rest his forehead against hers, eyes closed as they panted, happy, _so_ happy to be reunited once again.

“ _Christ_ , I missed you,” he breathed, and he pulled her close so that she would not see his eyes, crushing her against him, and she held him just as tight. Tears clouded her vision as she buried her face into his neck, and after a moment he pulled back to kiss her forehead, before kissing her once again. They hardly parted as his lips brushed against hers as he spoke, “I missed you.”  
  
Teresa’s smile only grew wider as she looked upon him, his green eyes filled with unshed tears, and brought her thumb to wipe away those that did spill. He had missed her, just as much as she did him. The time spent apart was agonizing, but reuniting with him made it all worth it, here in his arms.

“And I missed _you_ , Richard,” her arms she threw around his neck, and he returned the embrace, and the two of them swayed in the dying grass, the world falling away, the only thought for the other. “I missed you. More than you know.” She pulled back only slightly to gaze at him fully, though close they still stayed. His hair had gotten longer, his stubble rough against her cheek, and she knew tonight she would find new scars, new wounds from his time away- he was so much more beautiful in her arms than in her memories. How could anything compare to the real thing? His green eyes held her gaze, just as entranced, as though he were committing every detail to memory- it had been too long.

A loud squeal broke the spell upon them and Teresa glanced over his shoulder as he turned to see- little Antonia was swathed from head to toe in layers and layers of clothes, waddling with a toothy smile as she ran towards them, arms outstretched- and then promptly fell flat on her face as she tripped over an unseen root.

“Antonia!“ Both Teresa and Richard moved to helped her, shouting her name with a look of horror, but Antonia did not cry. Instead she giggled as she pushed herself up, struggling through all her layers and smiling up at them with dirt on her face. She got back to her feet and quickly waddled to meet them, looking back between Teresa and the ground so as not to fall again. “Mama!”

“Antonia,” She could only match the smile on her daughter’s face as she dropped a knee to the ground, engulfing her daughter in a hug. She scooped her into her arms as she stood and held her tightly to her, her daughter’s laughter loud and joyful. Richard gave her a worried look, but she only smiled in reassurance. Her arm was stronger- it was not back to it’s full strength, but it was much better than it was before, and Teresa could lift her own daughter into her arms once more without worrying about injuring herself, or her wound.

Teresa peppered loud kisses onto Antonia’s chubby cheeks and she squealed with laughter, burying her face into her mama’s hair as she wrapped her arms around her neck. Antonia was only just beginning to learn words and phrases, but names were coming to her, and Teresa could not believe how quickly she was growing up. The thought saddened her for a moment; the war had taken so much time away from her, from Richard- but she was fighting for a Spain free of the French, fighting for a land made safe to raise her daughter, to call home, and that smile returned as she nuzzled her daughter’s temple, kissing her softly. _“¿Como estás, mi hija?”_

Antonia merely babbled as she pulled away, making soft _‘mwah!’_ noises as she pressed her lips against Teresa’s cheek, and Richard came close, wrapping his arms around them both, so that Antonia was between them. One of her arms came to wrap around Richard’s neck, the other still around Teresa’s, and her parents drew forward to kiss her on either side of her cheeks, much to her loud delight.

“She’s been good,” Richard said, watching as Antonia played with her mother’s hair, and Teresa turned her gaze to him, “I’ve only been ‘ere a week, though, and she was runnin’ up the walls when I came,” He flashed her a grin and Teresa could not help but return it, “Can only imagine how she’ll be with _both_ of us here,” he teased. They both knew how she excited she got when both of them were able to visit, rare as it was. Many times it was only one of them, or the other, and they cherished the time they all got to be here together.

“I feel the same way,” Teresa laughed, and her heart still beat quickly from excitement and joy at seeing her husband and their daughter again. All those sleepless nights under the cold stars, aching for them, and now they were here, together again in her arms. “I’m sorry it took so long,” she apologized, giving a long sigh as she thought back to his letter, unfolded and folded dozens of times by the fire, “I did not plan on it.”

“We never do,” His hand coming up to rub her back soothingly, warm and comforting. The touch reminded her that those days alone are done, if only for a little while. She does not need to think of their time apart. Not when they were together now, and as if he could hear her thoughts he said; “But we’re here now, ain’t we?”

Antonia, though not understanding the conversation entirely, nodded her head when they both looked her way, and babbled something at them.

“See? She’s happy- she don’t care,” Richard grinned, that brilliant smile that made the scar on his cheek disappear, the hand on her back now leading her forward as they walked through the grass, “Long as her mama and papa are here, it don’t matter to her.”

“Yes,” Teresa looked down at her daughter, and Antonia smiled back with a toothy grin, and Teresa could not help but kiss her forehead. “How long can you stay for?” She wished she had not missed him by a week, though his letter did not specify when he would be given time off.

“Another week or two, I think,” he replied, “I’m sure I can flub it and tell ‘em I got lost in the mountains.” He gave a cheeky grin as he gazed at her, almost shyly, “though I’d much rather be lost in your eyes.”

She laughed at that, resting her head on his shoulder as they walked towards the house, and he kissed the top of her head, his arm around her waist. “You are _impossible_ , Richard!”

Oh, how she had missed him.

“Only for you, love. Only for you.”

* * *

 

Night had fallen, and logs were tossed into the fireplace, keeping the room warm, blankets piled high upon them. Antonia and Richard had been playing in the grass when she had arrived, and they had already played that morning, too. It seemed she had boundless energy, and where she got it from Teresa did not know. Regardless, Antonia dragged them on the floor to play with her and her dolls until it was time for supper, and not long after she fell asleep in her papa’s lap as he read to her, and Teresa too found herself struggling to keep her eyes open.

Richard carried Antonia to their bed, fast asleep as they snuggled up next to her, facing each other. The crackling of the logs filled the quiet room, and the chilly air swayed the branches outside. Antonia slept peacefully, worn out from her exciting day, and only once did she stir in her sleep to crawl onto Richard’s chest, seeking his warmth. They both grinned as he lifted her, and right away she curled up beneath the blankets and went back to sleep. Teresa followed suit, shifting to lie her head on his shoulder, and Richard wrapped an arm around her, pressing a kiss to her head.  
  
“Antonia found a couple of snails today,” he said, low, stroking her golden curls away from her chubby cheeks. Her hair was getting longer and resembled Richard’s more and more every day. “And a few frogs. You should'a seen the look on her face when one jumped onto her nose.” He could not help the grin that spread, and Teresa laughed, only able to imagine how delighted she must have been.

“I’m glad she is having fun,” her finger traced over Antonia’s nose -not quite like hers, and not quite like his. The bed was tempting her to sleep, and Richard’s warmth only made it more so. She did not want to, despite her exhaustion. She wanted to cherish this moment with her family as long as she could. But she could not recall the last she had slept on something that was not the hard, cold ground, and the miles of riding were making themselves known to her body. “Especially with her papa.”

There was a comfortable silence between them as they looked down upon their daughter, and Teresa pressed her lips to her husband’s brow, a low noise of contentment rumbling in his chest. These were the moments she fought for. For a life free from war and strife, from death and sorrow…she wanted to capture this moment and cherish it forever. There was nothing more she loved than being in her husband’s arms with their daughter between them, warm and safe, filled with love and affection. It was a life she wanted more than anything- and if it mean being apart, if only for a little while to make that life possible, it was worth it.

“She misses you, you know,” she said after a few moments, her words soft as she lifted her fingers to brush the hair behind his ear. “She may not be able to say much, yet…but I can tell. I’m glad she got to spend time with you.”

Richard still smiled, but it did not fully reach his eyes. Teresa once remembered being told that the eyes revealed much that a person might not be aware of- and she had always been good at reading people’s expressions, their body language. Richard was guarded, and so was she– but their time together had lowered those walls, and they trusted one another. They pushed each other, just enough, to admit feelings and emotions they otherwise would not. With no one else could they do such a thing. These moments, quiet and unguarded, were safe with them. They were safe with each other.

Her hand reached out to give him a reassuring touch, and he smiled appreciatively.

“I know, love. I know. I miss her. I miss you…more than anything in the world.” He shifted for a moment, his free arm pulling her closer. Antonia still slept peacefully on his chest, and his hand cupped her cheek as he rested his forehead against hers. She leaned into his caress, kissing his fingers, and his eyes slipped closed as he spoke. “I just wish this bloody war was over. So I could spend time with the two of you.”

”Soon, Richard,“ she murmured softly, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. He let out a sigh, turning to nuzzle her with his nose, and she kissed him again. ”Soon.“ It was all they had dreamt about, _longed_ for in days spent away, but they knew their fight must go on. Just a little longer. "I promise."

Her fingers swept across his chest absently, tracing over long healed scars. Some freshly healed. There were a few on his fingers and arm, and she were sure there were more that she could not see, on his body- perhaps even on his heart, his mind. War had given them many wounds, not always visible. But for now they stayed tucked away into the recesses of their mind, a distant thing replaced with warmth and love.

Her fingers tenderly brushed across the tight skin, old and new, faded and pronounced. She had memorized them in their times before, kissing each one, making them better. As though her lips could ease the pain and memories and heal him so. They would always linger, relics of battles and injuries long past, and for as long as they lingered, Teresa would always kiss them.  
  
Her hand traveled up towards his shoulder, careful not to disturb Antonia, who’s thumb was in her mouth, sleeping soundly. She shifted only slightly, her shirt parting as she lifted her arm to trace a new, healed wound, and she stopped as she heard his sudden, sharp hitch in his breathing. He stiffened, his arm around her stopping in its ministrations, and Teresa lifted her gaze from his wounds to his face. The air in the room had changed. He looked pained, brows furrowed and tight lipped, and Teresa wondered for a moment if her touch had been too rough. His eyes were not on hers; instead they looked further down, and Teresa followed.

Her shirt had fallen open, her skin golden in the firelight, but her heart sank as she realized just what had pained him so. Across and just above the swell of her left breast lay her scar, ugly and deep and reddish-purple, jagged in a way that her skin would never again be the same. It was healing, the stitches long removed, but the memory of what had happened had not faded for either of them, and still caused such pain at the sight of it.

In a handful of months it would have been nearly a year ago she had been shot. Hakeswill, the bastard, with that woman in his arms- she had been too slow. Foolish. And she had nearly died. The bullet had nearly grazed her heart, but the blood she lost was too much, on her neck, down her side, choking on it as she tried to say her goodbyes…

But she had been saved. Perhaps it was the Holy Mother who had intervened, or some other force, but she had been told a doctor had been there, dug the bullet out, and saved her life. She did not remember much from before her fever, but she had survived that too. All with Richard beside her, caring for her, and she could vividly remember his wracking sobs as he begged her _please don’t go, don’t leave me here alone, not again-_

She swallowed thickly as she pushed the thoughts away, though the pain from both the wound and the memories lingered. She recognized that look in his eye- guilt, anger, fear- she had seen it too often when he looked upon her wound, and even when it was not visible. What scar she had remained with was a permanent reminder, but the scar it had left on Richard Sharpe was deeper, and was one that had not yet healed- and perhaps never would.

His arm reached slowly across Antonia, and she could see him hesitate as it lingered above her chest. He gave a shuddering breath, and she could see a shine to his eyes as he swallowed back the lump in his throat. His fingers shook as he held them there. He was steeling himself, still so worried that he would hurt her if he did, trying to push away those awful, awful memories, but he turned his gaze back to her, in a silent question of permission that words did not need to convey.

Teresa’s hand came up to his, strong and steady against his shaking one, to give him strength. She guided his hand, and he brushed the scar with the tips of fingers only briefly before pulling away, as though he had hurt her terribly, but she did not let go. Instead she held it firmly, letting it rest atop the rigid space where her wound had been sewn shut. The flesh was not as tender as it used to be, but she was sensitive and the feeling lingered only momentarily.

Teresa could see the wheels turning in his head, the thoughts that filled them as he took a deep breath, his fingers grazing softly across it. Feeling it. He lingered, and she could feel her heartbeat against his palm, knowing that he felt it too. Strong. Unwavering.

She had lived.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts. “How’s it feeling?”

Teresa drew away briefly, though his hand still remained, to look at him thoughtfully. There were many things she could tell him. It ached, sometimes, especially in the cold. She had nightmares. She wanted to be strong again. But none of these things felt right in the moment. Not when she was with her husband and daughter.

Teresa gave him a smile, her fingers lacing with the hand on her scar. She gave a comforting squeeze, and he returned it, a small smile of his own forming.

“Better,” she said. It was the truth. “Now that I am home.”

 _“Home.”_ Richard echoed, giving a slow nod of his head as the word sank in for the both of them. “Home.” That smile grew, though, and she could not help but find her own as he pulled her in for a kiss, soft and sweet, but with an intensity and a passion that she knew was a reminder. She was here, in his arms. Alive. Okay. She did not leave him.

And she never would.

  
They parted from the kiss, his breath warm across her lips, and he smiled before drawing her as close as he could, Antonia stirring only slightly to snuggle further into his chest. Richard pulled the blankets further, only their daughter’s head above them, and she nuzzled her husband’s neck, resting her head on his shoulder.

  
This is what she fought for. What _they_ fought for, and nearly died for. A family, warm and safe and loving, something so precious and rare in a time of war and strife, of loss and despair…but that was over the hills and far away, distant thoughts that were not wanted, nor needed here. She was in his arms, and he in hers, Antonia between them, and as they drifted to sleep, Teresa could not help but smile softly.

This was what they fought for, though they were all the same thing; for family, her husband and child, and for home.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my dearest Sam, and dedicated to the years we've spent developing Teresa and Sharpe's story from the beginning of the war, to her survival, and to the end of the war, living the life they deserve.
> 
> I'm here to give the Moreno-Sharpe family the life they deserve because canon was awful. My characters and story now & I'm gonna revive this ship tag single handedly. This fic is set in about October 1813, after Sharpe's healed from his injuries in Sword, and just before he's sent off to England in Regiment (based off of the film timelines). Originally written November 2017, posted to Tumblr April 7th 2018. Song lyrics are from Connie Dover's "Who Will Comfort Me?".


End file.
